There was exhaustion. There was relief. There may have even been a little joy. It was certainly unlike most Finals-losing locker rooms in NBA history. This was June 2014, the fourth year in a row the Miami Heat had made it to the championship round, and it was the first time they’d been outclassed, losing in five games to the San Antonio Spurs. The reality and finality of it left the room devoid of the type of pain usually reserved for the end of a long journey. The duration and the circumstances had stripped it all away.
The Finals had been frustrating. After he scored a basket to make it a two-point game with four minutes left in Game 1 in San Antonio, LeBron James’s legs cramped so badly that he had to leave the game, and the Spurs instantly pulled away for the victory. The air-conditioning had failed inside the AT&T Center and temperatures on the court surpassed 90 degrees. Some suspected it was a ploy by the Spurs akin to those of Boston Celtics coaching great Red Auerbach, who was accused of manipulating temperatures inside Boston Garden for years.
James had previously experienced cramping issues in warm arenas, especially in later playoff rounds as summer arrived and heated the exterior air. He acknowledged that playoff games caused him more stress and he was more prone to becoming dehydrated. Several times he needed IVs following playoff games, and he began a routine where he’d carry a jug of water around with him to constantly drink during the playoffs. He explained that “playoff sweat is different than regular-season sweat.”
During the 2012 Finals, James cramped during Game 4 in Miami and was ultimately unable to finish. The Heat won that night, but in subsequent years the engineering department at AmericanAirlines Arena in Miami cranked the air-conditioning on playoff game days to the point where it was almost uncomfortably cold.
The AT&T Center had a bit of a reputation across the league for bizarre events. Bats were known to fly through the building on occasion, and once Spurs star Manu Ginobili captured one during a game, thereafter needing days of rabies injections. Just a few weeks before the air-conditioning failed, the Portland Trail Blazers found a snake in the visitors’ locker room before a playoff game. The air-conditioning failure instantly became part of lore and fodder for conspiracy theorists, who noted all fans were given noisemakers that night that could be used as hand fans, while several industrial fans turned up in the Spurs’ locker room.
It was rendered moot after the Spurs won the final three games of the series with James healthy. After a 17-point loss in Game 5 that avenged the Spurs’ loss to Miami the season before, it was clear who the better team was regardless of temperature.
In the locker room, Shane Battier, who’d been a crucial addition to the team three years earlier, announced his retirement. Ray Allen then surprised when he hinted he was considering retirement after an eighteen-season Hall of Fame career. He never played another game.
Rashard Lewis, a veteran of fifteen seasons who started four of the five Finals games, was soon forced into retirement because of knee issues. Greg Oden, who was on the team but didn’t play much, was forced to retire from the NBA for the same reason.
The team’s doctors were quite busy during the season as Wade missed 28 games, mostly due to knee pain or to rest his knees. He had problems in both. His left knee had been an issue for years, dating to his Marquette days when he had his meniscus partially removed, a procedure doctors nowadays avoid as much as possible because of its long-term effects. He needed several more surgeries, including one to his left knee before the 2012–13 season. Before Game 7 of the 2013 Finals, which the Heat won over the Spurs after a heroic effort from James, Wade needed to have the knee drained. He was also suffering in his right knee, where he’d dealt with pain for months because of bone bruises and irritation.
So it was an old, battered, and tired Heat team, and the final loss felt more like a going-away party. James outclassed the rest of his teammates, scoring 31 points with 10 rebounds and five assists in Game 5. He did not share in the feeling of relief.
As the Spurs celebrated with champagne and planned an all-night party at a nearby Italian restaurant, James arrived at the postgame press conference. Within moments he was asked about his future, as he had an opt-out clause in his contract with a decision due in fourteen days. His answer ended up being telling.
“I’m not disappointed in any of my teammates, just wish we could have come through, played a better series,” he said.
He hadn’t been asked about his teammates. Perhaps they had given their best, but at that point, even after two championships and four consecutive Finals trips, it was not enough. That answer made it clear that when thinking about his future, James was thinking about his teammates, the ones who would even be left.
Three days later, Heat president Pat Riley called his own press conference back in Miami. These were traditional at the end of every season and often celebratory. Not this one. Riley sat down and immediately slammed his hands against the table.
“You want to trend something, trend this,” he said, referring to social media. “I’m pissed. So go ahead, get it out there.” He proceeded to go on a diatribe in which it slowly became clear he wasn’t just speaking to the media and the fans but also to his players. “Everybody needs to get a grip. Heat players, organization, all of our fans, get a grip!” he said.
He talked about his time with the Los Angeles Lakers, during which the team won five titles over twelve years. “That means seven times they didn’t win. They didn’t run, they didn’t win!” he said. “This stuff is hard. You have to stay together if you’ve got the guts. You don’t take the first door and run out of it.” He compared the just-finished season to a Broadway show, saying it sort of “ran out of steam.”
It was strange for Riley to be so cranky. He was a man who typically presented a front that things were under control and everything happened for a reason, whether it was the truth or not. He’d been through so many events in his career, there were few things he didn’t have a personal history dealing with and a story to grease the message he needed to deliver. He also usually had a plan, and often that plan was good. One of his greatest talents was his sales pitches, whether it was to players he was coaching, free agents he was trying to sign, or executives who paid tens of thousands to hear him speak.
In 1987, at the rally celebrating the title, he famously guaranteed the Lakers would repeat as champions. It was brash and, with his custom shirt and designer sunglasses, unquestionably cool. But it was part of a plan. The previous two times he’d coached the Lakers to titles they’d come back flat the following season and hadn’t defended. Riley wanted to motivate them with his words. The Lakers got the repeat in 1988. Riley reacted by secretly filing a trademark for the phrase “three-peat.”
Even when Riley didn’t win he was often spectacular in his efforts. Once, in 2000, he was hoping to sign major free agent Tracy McGrady. When McGrady came to Miami to visit, Riley arranged for him to board a boat at Heat star Alonzo Mourning’s house and then speed across Biscayne Bay to Riley’s waterside mansion to receive the contract offer. McGrady signed in Orlando, but that presentation beats the greatest PowerPoint in boardroom history.
It was in a boardroom where Riley closed the deal on James in 2010, appealing to his desire to win championships by placing his seven championship rings on the table to illustrate he knew how to get them for James. By the summer of 2014, Riley had nine and James two.
So there was an assumption that Riley again knew what to do. That he’d looked ahead and had a plot ready to make sure James would be staying with his ring-producing machine. But the fiery press conference hinted he did not. All he had was a challenge to James’s manhood.
Riley’s aggressive nature exposed several previously unknown things. One was that he and the organization were nervous about James’s free agency and keeping the team together. The second was that Riley felt the need to give this message via the media instead of in person. He admitted his postseason meeting with James was brief and they didn’t discuss these themes in depth, as James was looking to leave on a head-clearing trip to the Bahamas.
While Riley’s message—that even great teams don’t win every year and failure often is a part of establishing a dynasty—was sage and even reasonable, his tone and methods seemed misplaced, especially for a player he was supposed to have a relationship with. A little more telling was that he announced in the press conference that James and his wife were expecting a third child, their first girl, that fall. James had taken steps to keep that information private in the previous months, something media members who knew him had been well aware of, and Riley mentioning it seemingly off the cuff was surprising.
Five days later, James opted out of his contract, a week earlier than he was required to. There was no other comment made, but other teams started to believe the rumors they’d heard, that James might be considering leaving after all.
A day after he opted out, James, Wade, and Bosh got together for a late afternoon meeting at Soho Beach House, a private and secluded hotel in South Beach, where they discussed their situation. After ordering watermelon salad, chips, and guacamole, they talked about free agency. All three of them had opt-out clauses in their deals, but only James had exercised his at that point. They’d had a similar summit in 2010 before joining together to play for the Heat when they’d agreed to align their decision making. They’d also had more informal discussions in 2006, when they all believed they should sign three-year contract extensions rather than the typical five-year deals when they all played for different teams. It was expected this type of meeting would take place again.
Only this time was different. There would be no decision or even a consensus. James had different representation, and he, Wade, and Bosh wouldn’t be operating with all of them aware of the others’ moves. Options were discussed, especially about the changing landscape in the league and how that might affect contracts. But James didn’t know for sure what he was going to do, and he told them. In retrospect, Wade and Bosh would later say his indecision said everything. But at that place and time it just came off as uncertainty. When it was over, Bosh went home, as he and his wife, Adrienne, were planning a long worldwide trip with his children. James and Wade went to Sun Life Stadium to attend a concert by friends Jay-Z and Beyoncé, who were kicking off a tour.
James’s tone was relayed to the Heat offices. Their reaction played out quickly. Owners of the 26th pick in the NBA draft the following night, the team began calling around looking for ways to move up in the draft. Their target became known. They were chasing Shabazz Napier, the undersized point guard who’d led Connecticut to the national title that spring. Napier fit into the type of player Riley often likes—he was older after four years in college, had championship experience, and he was American. Riley typically didn’t draft international prospects. Napier’s résumé resembled those of many other Riley picks, from Wade, who played three years at Marquette and went to a Final Four, to the team’s current point guards, former NCAA tournament hero Mario Chalmers and four-year collegian Norris Cole.
But there was another motive, and it was tied to James. During UConn’s title run, James had marveled at Napier’s playmaking. “No way u take a PG in the lottery before Napier,” he wrote on his Twitter account during the title game where Napier scored 22 points to lead his team to a win over Kentucky. The Heat obviously took notice. Even though they needed help at the wing positions after Battier’s and Allen’s statements, they traded two second-round picks to move from the No. 26 pick to the No. 24 pick to get Napier. It was pricey for such a modest move up, but the Heat clearly had motivation, and it wasn’t just to get Napier.
“Why not?” Riley said that night. “If LeBron and I have the same taste in talent, so be it. But he didn’t call me on the phone, or he didn’t make a point to me about it.”
This was true. James had not discussed it with the Heat and they had not talked on the phone since his opt-out. Riley would later criticize James for misleading the Heat when it came to Napier, who ended up being traded away after one unsuccessful season in Miami. The larger point was to get James’s attention. On that front, it clearly worked.
After the Heat made the trade, James went back to Twitter, writing, “My favorite player in the draft!”
It gave the impression James and the Heat were on the same page. It also gave Riley some momentum and some hope for a mission he planned for the next night. That was at a wedding in the Coconut Grove section of Miami for Mike Mancias, one of the Heat’s trainers, who was extremely close to James.
James and Riley were both in attendance, along with numerous other Heat personnel. In a more relaxed and celebratory atmosphere, Riley hoped he would be able to go off into a corner with James and be able to have a conversation about the future. A veteran motivator and dealmaker who’d won James over in the past, he was hopeful he could do it again. It certainly had seemed to the Heat the move the day before to get Napier had energized James, and if nothing else it would be an excellent conversation starter.
But there would be no meeting. James kept his distance and wanted to do no business. Paul also attended the wedding but did not meet with Riley. James and Paul had agreed they would have a systematic approach to this free agency. There would be a process and Paul would be leading it. There would be no end runs or backroom sessions. It would be handled in an orderly fashion, and it would be handled after July 1.
There was a perception that Riley and James had to have some sort of falling-out for it to reach this point. It wasn’t that black-and-white. Despite Riley’s efforts, the two had never really had a falling-in. They’d had talks, they’d shared meals and drinks, they’d embraced after titles. Riley always believed these moments created bonds for life. For James, it was always a business relationship. Riley could switch to business easily. He’d traded franchise cornerstones Tim Hardaway, Shaquille O’Neal, and Alonzo Mourning. He eventually let Wade walk over a monetary dispute. And in the end, he cut Bosh loose when the sides weren’t on the same page on a medical issue.
James had many warm moments with Riley, but he’d never lost sight of the reality. He knew Riley could be ruthless. He eventually began to resent he’d given the Heat a contract discount only to see them cut some corners on salaries later. Ultimately, James’s circle was small and tight and Riley was never in it. That reality caught Riley, and much of the Heat organization, by surprise.
James did have a few special audiences at the wedding that night. One was with Zydrunas Ilgauskas, who had flown into town because Mancias had befriended him when working for the Cavs and Heat. That night Ilgauskas told James he had decided to leave the Cavs organization. But they spent time talking about the status of the franchise, James kept asking questions about the roster and about the team’s plans. But while Riley waited for his chance, James stepped into a private room for an important duty. Along with the bride and groom, Mike and Heather, he became the official witness in signing their marriage certificate.
As it would turn out, it was the only contract he’d sign in Miami that summer.